Parenting: Here's where rubber meets the road, brutha

By Jeff Edelstein, Columnist, The Trentonian

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

I had a moment the other day at a local park. I witnessed a quartet of couples saunter into the grassy meadow with their babies in tow. One baby per couple. In each case, one of the parents was cradling their bundle of joy and the other parent was cradling a Whole Foods bag.

They all proceeded to walk over to a relatively secluded area, sitting down with blankets and other Sunday-in-the-park accoutrements. They were clearly having themselves quite a time. Eating, laughing, playing with the not-yet-walking-or-talking babies. Smiles abounded. These people were acting - and rightfully so - as if the world was their playground.

It was a truly beautiful, life-affirming sight to behold.

No it wasn’t.

See, it wasn’t anger I felt. It wasn’t jealousy, either. I’m not even sure there’s a word for it. It was just like … well, what I really wanted to do was take my two children - ages 2 and 4 - and send them hurtling into the Circle of Peace and Love and Non-GMO Food like a pair of neutron bombs to jar these newbie parents awake to their futures.

One little baby? Please. Having a puppy is harder work. Two toddlers (and a pregnant wife)? That’s where it’s at. That’s where rubber meets the road, brutha.

Speaking of rubber meeting road, yep, that was my daughter, wailing at the top of her lungs, screaming “MY BIKE MY BIKE!” as my son pedaled away on his bicycle. Note the “his” there. It was his bicycle. Not her bicycle. His. Truth be told, she can’t ride a bicycle. But she wanted to ride it. And she didn’t have a nap. And she’s 2. And so she was screaming, loud enough for the Circle of Peace and Love and Non-GMO Food to hear, close enough that I could see their faces.

And you know what their faces said? “I judge thee! I judge thee as a bad parent, letting your precious little girl scream and cry. Do something! Comfort her! Offer her an organic gluten free pretzel with sesame seeds instead of salt! You’re a monster! I’m still judging you! Pass the hummus and carrots!”

Judged or not, I did what I had to do, namely continue to follow my son on his bike with my daughter trailing behind, wailing.

“Come on, come on,” I implored her. “You’ll get your turn.” Eventually, she got her turn, which mostly involved her sitting on the bike while my wife and I held her in place and said “wheeeee.”

I think the Circle of Love, Etc. was on the melon course at this point.

They just don’t know. They just. Don’t. Know.

They just don’t know they’re going to let their children watch back-to-back (to-back-to-back) episodes of “Paw Patrol.” They just don’t know they’re going let their kids eat boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner sometimes and not feel one twinge of guilt about it. They just don’t know everyone is going to stop thinking their kids are cute when they do less-than-cute things. They just don’t know they’re going to yell at them when they do something dangerous or just plain dumb. They just don’t know their days of quiet Sunday picnics will be about as plentiful as rain in their living room.

They just don’t know.

But you know what else they don’t know? The bond gets stronger. Seems impossible to consider, but it’s true. Sure, you love your babies, but really: They’re lumps compared to a toddler, and those toddlers are lumps compared to pre-schoolers.

I can just imagine what’s in store for me as they get older, both the good and the bad.

And as for those quiet picnics? I’m fine waiting until 2035.

Jeff Edelstein can be reached at facebook.com/jeffreyedelstein and @jeffedelstein on Twitter